


The Beguilement: Epilogue

by itstonedme



Series: Beguilement Verse [15]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Dedication:</b> It's been five years since I wrote <i>The Beguilement</i>, more than eight since it first took form.  It was never intended to be more than a one-off.  But it was through comments that I was encouraged to perhaps go on, see where it might lead, and from there, it began to take on a life of its own.  I wish I hadn't taken this long to conclude the story.  Output has never been my strong suit.  Many of the original commenters are no longer here, and I would have liked them to have had the story they asked for.  Of those who are still reading, this work is for you.  I thank all of you for your encouragement and enthusiasm and loyalty.  You are the reason I'm here.  </p>
<p>Part 15 in the Beguilement universe.  A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beguilement: Epilogue

_Kensington, London, four years later_

Viggo stares absently at the old-fashioned Mareados glass in front of him, his hand slowly turning the tumbler as it rotates on its rounded base. Within, ice cubes click and melt into a 17-year-old Japanese whisky, a particular favourite. He has dined early – a succulent entrée preceded by an equally delicious appetizer – and the restaurant is only half filled at this hour. He's awaiting an appointment, another in his history of anonymous assignations. This time, his travels have brought him once more to London, and dinner at _Kudu_ is a customary part of his itinerary. Any time he has access to South African game without having to cross the equator, he takes advantage.

He's unaware he has company until the figure beside his table addresses him. "Viggo," Elijah says, hands lapped, cuffs sharp. "It is always a pleasure when you visit." He's in a suit tonight, this being his day off. Management of his kitchen has been left in the capable hands of his senior sous-chef. 

Viggo looks up and for a moment, he has to fight the urge to politely stand, so automatic is the response whenever beauty presents itself. He smiles and tips his head in greeting. "Elijah."

"Your meal was to your liking?"

"Very much so, as always. Please." He motions to the chair, although he knows Elijah won't sit. He never has.

"Kind of you, but no. Please feel free to finish your drink at your leisure. Whenever you are ready, there is a gentleman waiting to see you." Elijah glances briefly towards the dining room entrance, where Charlie, long hair combed back, beard trimmed and grey suit fitted to an art, stands waiting with hands folded and legs apart, watching them as though he were working a security detail.

Viggo reaches into his jacket and hands Elijah his credit card. "I'd like to settle the bill now, if you don't mind."

*

Because Orlando has been in Belfast for the past week, Elijah decides to fly into Amsterdam late Sunday morning for two days of meetings with Dom and somewhere in there, a dinner date with Ian. 

Since finally completing the combined work and course study to gain his architect's certification, in which the unofficial became official, Orlando is now more often on the road. Between the two of them, they now have three avenues of employment, and the demands of each are time-intensive. It has tested their relationship, there is no question: there are times when no amount of technology keeping them in touch can compensate for an empty bed. 

For that reason alone, Elijah is exiting the escort business, which is the main purpose for his current visit to Amsterdam. Dom is in the process of buying up his share, and there are lawyers to meet with and agreements to sign. It's time anyway, for both he and Dom. Elijah's interest in selling sex has waned in direct proportion to the arc of his culinary success. He'd like to open a second restaurant, something more ecletic than South African cuisine, although _Kudu_ has filled a niche not being met, surprisingly, in London, where all the African restaurants feature northern fare. Nor have the prices he's had to pay to bring in his game meats and South African reserve wines been a deterrent; patrons are willing to pay well just to have both. 

Dom has settled down now that management of the escort business has fallen onto his shoulders. He's shown a talent for entrepreneurial business as has his partner James, who will be a shareholder once Elijah is no longer involved. Dom and James have a comfortable arrangement, domestically as well as professionally. Both of them continue to ply their trade but very selectively. They share a flat and will manage their human resources from there. They are very hands on with their talent, something they both have no problem with and often share. They now handle fourteen escorts, and although there is the opportunity and temptation to increase that number, theirs is the type of business that needs close monitoring to ensure quality and loyalty. If they chose to increase revenues at all, they will do it through other interests completely independent of prostitution. Opportunities come their way all the time, usually through their well-heeled clientele. Alexander has race horses, Michael has film investments, and so it goes.

*

Elijah is on the tube to Heathrow when the first phone call comes in. He doesn't recognize the displayed city code and dismisses it unanswered as spam. He doesn't want to be tied up should Orlando call.

He's not overly concerned. Orlando's phone has been going to voice mail for the better part of the morning which isn't unusual except for the fact that Orlando usually gets back to him, even if it's just for a minute.

He's at his departure gate when the second call comes in, from the same number. He leaves it unanswered but googles the city code to see where it might be coming from. When he realizes it's Belfast, he's mildly concerned. Orlando wouldn't use a local line, he'd use his mobile. He hits the call back option.

"Elijah!" Orlando answers.

"What the fuck?" Elijah laughs. "Whose phone are you on?"

"A dinosaur's," Orlando laughs. "Can you believe I left my cunting mobile in my room this morning? I'm using a client's."

"You have a Sunday meeting? I thought they'd all be at church."

"Heathens, the lot of them," Orlando replies. "Site inspection. Where are you?"

"Just waiting to board." As if on cue, the announcement comes over the speakers.

"I'll call you back in two hours," Orlando says. "What's your day like?"

"I'll check into the flat, make some phone calls. Lunch with Dom, dinner with Ian, back to the flat."

"Later, my love. I can't believe I forgot my phone. I feel naked. I won't be able to text you dirty thoughts from the ninth floor overlooking a shipyard."

"Get to work," Elijah laughs.

*

Despite an imminent future with no reason to have a presence in Amsterdam, Elijah can't face giving up the canal flat. It makes no financial sense to keep it; he won't have a company to run its cost through. He knows it's sentiment that drives his decision. He knows Orlando feels the same way. But real estate in London consumes enough of their resources. It's one of the things he needs to discuss with Dom, see if there is some way of keeping it leased. 

He pulls out his Dutch mobile in the cab from Schiphol. "We still on for two o'clock?" he asks when Dom flips on.

"Absolutely," Dom replies. "Or earlier. Or later. Whatever works."

"Two is good."

*

He feels the draft the moment he opens the apartment door and immediately sees the source: the living room balcony door is slid open, the curtains billowing. _Fuck._ His first thought is that the flat is "in use" although it shouldn't be; Dom would have told him. His next thought is that maybe one of his escorts is doing a little private work on the side, which would just be plain stupid, risking use of the business flat for personal gain. But the last thing he wants is to walk in on a scene. He quietly steps through so that he can glance into the bedroom. It is empty, the bed neatly made. He concludes that it must have been housekeeping airing the place out for him.

He throws his garment bag down on the bed and goes into the kitchen, loading the coffee maker with water and popping in a coffee pod. While it brews, he walks to the balcony door, scooping aside the billowing curtains to slide the door shut.

"Aren't you going to come out?"

The adrenaline rush is the first thing to hit him. The fact that it is Orlando's voice is the next. He steps out onto the balcony, stunned.

"I was going to say "surprise" but I see that's not necessary." Orlando is sitting next to the bistro table, where he's been reading a book.

Elijah shakes his head once. "The phone call," he says.

"Picked the phone up in Belfast on Friday." He points down to the balcony deck. "Placed the call from right here." Orlando looks suitably pleased in having thrown Elijah off his scent.

"Feel," Elijah says. He walks over and takes Orlando's hand so that he can press the fingers to his hammering neck.

"Ohhhh," Orlando commiserates. "Poor baby. Come here." He pulls him onto his lap.

"I may just shit my pants on you," Elijah warns, his heart beginning to slow down.

"Oooo, scat. That's one place we haven't gone." Orlando's smile threatens to split his face.

Elijah is still rather speechless. "Why?" he asks.

"You don't remember, do you."

Elijah's brows furrow. 

"Eight years ago today, you looked at me across a hotel lounge and brought me here for the first time. Did you think I would let this day slip by without being here with you?"

Elijah is not usually given to sentimentality. He's always been the one buttoned down and in control. Perhaps it's the scare, perhaps it's the memory, perhaps it’s the romance of the moment. He would be at a complete loss to explain the overwhelming surge of emotion that now makes his eyes glisten and lips press tight. 

"Hey," Orlando soothes. "It's okay." He leans back, bringing Elijah with him, and Elijah slips his arm around him so that he can rest his forehead against Orlando's cheek.

They sit quietly like this, the bright sun in a clear blue sky warming them. "I don't want to give up this place," Elijah finally whispers. 

"We won't," Orlando tells him. "If I have to run it through my office, we'll keep it somehow."

"I don't want to see Dom." Elijah can't help thinking he sounds like he's nine.

"There's no lunch with Dom," Orlando tells him. "Nor dinner with Ian. They'll see us both tomorrow. All taken care of."

_All taken care of._

Elijah loves Orlando. He loves Orlando more than he has loved anyone or anything in his life. If his soul were a book, Orlando has read it like Braille. He cannot conceive of a moment between now and when his story ends where Orlando won't be a part of it. He didn't set out for this to happen. He didn't think it was even possible. All he knows is that one day, a guy walked into a bar and his world was taken care of.

 

The End


End file.
